


Chosen

by Narkito



Series: It popped in my inbox: Prompts [6]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, dystopian au, minor character death off screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narkito/pseuds/Narkito
Summary: Dystopian AU, Danny gets deployed. // Little AU universe I want to keep on playing with, born from starter prompts.





	1. pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aries_taurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/gifts), [Ilmare_Ilse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilmare_Ilse/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for aries_taurus, who started it with: "I got the call last night…” Take it wherever you want!!"

The first thing he’s aware of is the cold, long gone are the warm breezy mornings of Hawaii, ever since Danny was recalled to the mainland, Steve has had to re-learn how to negotiate with the lower registers of temperature (mainly by the overuse of thick clothing, especially Danny’s). That they’re so close to the blast doesn’t help either, but the rent is cheap, the house is great and spacious, everyone gets their own room, and they’re close to Danny’s parents, in case they need them to babysit the children or feel like having company for dinner. That Danny’s family has survived almost intact is another very good reason to stay close and enjoy the few gifts of life.

Steve stretches his arms over his head, stretching his entire body until he’s standing on the tips of his toes, and then, the sweet smell of pancakes hits his nostrils… and, okay, his morning exercises can wait. Not too long, though, his leg still stiffens after being on his feet for a while, especially since the weather has been getting mean-cold lately.

 _On that note_ , Steve thinks, and puts on one of Danny’s hoodies, relishing on the smell and feel of him all around.

He checks Charlie’s room on his way to the kitchen, but the bed is empty, and there’s enough evidence to assume there was a dinosaur slumber party here last night. Nahele’s and Grace’s individual bedrooms turn the same, minus the dinosaurs.

The smell of pancakes—something unbelievably sweet and rich—is flooding the entire house by this point, so he pushes the door to the kitchen, already tasting his breakfast in anticipation. But as his eyes land on Grace and Nahele, both hugging Charlie, his heart falls to his feet, and there’s not enough air to fill his lungs. Danny rubs their shoulders and hugs all three of them to the best of his ability.

“Danno,” is all that Steve can push past his lips; it’s a plea and a lament all at once.

“I got the call last night…” Danny trails off, eyeing the kids and choosing what can be said in front of them. “They want me tomorrow morning.”

“How long?” Steve asks, and the kids’ cries grow stronger. Danny’s face goes grim and pale.

“A year, maybe eighteen months.”

Steve sucks air through his teeth.

Ever since they came, his world has turned upside down. He has more or less adapted to the new reality that about 60% of all the people he’s ever met are gone, to the loss of his childhood home, and to the death of his children’s pillars (Kamekona’s had been particularly dramatic and only recently assimilated). He has even accepted that Danny has the genetic marker that can activate the technology, and that he doesn’t. But he doesn’t think he would be able to function in a Danny-less world, and if they’re asking him to go to the front for so long, then this is it, this is the final stage of war. Danny either comes back, or his world shatters.

Danny looks up from the children, who are still inconsolable, and asks Steve, with his eyes and his heart, to please pull himself together, for the sake of the kids.  

Steve’s hip tingles. From where the first screw went in, all the way down to the titanium bar acting as a tibia. For a fraction of a second he can see the blood spurting everywhere, reddening his sight. That he had been given priority care and a full reconstruction was only a courtesy as a former US Navy member, and because he was the spouse of a Chosen.

“So, pancakes?” Steve asks, voice trembling, the lump on his throat impossible to swallow.

Danny takes a long deep breath and lets it go slowly.

“I’ll get leave,” he says, almost pleads, “I made sure of that. I had a JAG lawyer draft a document with the conditions. Okay? I promise I’ll come home every four to six months.”

Steve nods, swallowing thickly until he thinks he can speak steadily.

“And school is cancelled today, of course,” Steve says, aiming for a cheerier tone.

Charlie takes a shuddering breath, all cried out.

“Can we go to grandma’s for dinner?” the kid asks, followed by a hiccup. Grace nods in support, looking up to her father with wet round eyes.

Nahele looks like he’s about to run away and slam the door to his room—repeatedly.

Steve gives himself two more seconds to rebel at the situation and then exhales, extending his arms and taking Nahele in. “We’re going to be okay. We’re a team. No matter what, we’re going to be okay.”


	2. reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Ilmare_Ilse who sent a prompt to fix the sadness.

“How you’ve been, Commander?” Rachel asks him. The connection is gritty and a bit lagged, but it is the best they’ve got so far.

It still feels surreal to be able to talk with someone across the oceans, and Rachel of all people. When they first hit, Rachel had been on her way to England, so they had assumed the worst, deciding to keep the flame of hope alive in front of the children until they could secure a safe place for them to hang on until evacuation hit their area, and then take it from there.

The news of her survival had reached them two weeks after Steve’s last surgery, right before all analogue communications were permanently shut down for civilians; digital had been taken down way before that, and survivor lists were slow to update under the circumstances.

“Please, Rachel… just Steve will do,” he says, shifting on his seat. He’s told her innumerable times to drop the formalities, but to Rachel is an honour of sorts, so she carries on, always does.

“Things are okay enough,” Steve continues, “the euphoria is kind of drumming down, but the kids are okay, at least somewhat better than before, so that definitely goes into the plus column.”

Rachel face distorts as the screen glitches.

“Still no word from Danny?” She asks. And Steve thinks he can see some nervousness on her face, some fundamental disappointment on her brow.

Or maybe he’s projecting how he feels: cheated out of a miracle. The mother survives impossible odds and the father dies defending the planet. Epic sagas have been written on far less.

Steve presses his lips into a thin line and clears his throat before answering.

“No, no word on Danny. I thought that after digital communications were restored we would know something, but it’s been a month already and nothing.”

They had won the war (if surviving by the skin of their teeth could count as “winning”) and it had been declared as so through the world almost three months ago, and still no word from Danny. Nor from The Confederation’s liaison, they could at least point them to a fistful of ash and give them closure. Or something.

“I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, one way or the other.”

Steve sighs, he has to hand it to her: Rachel is fierce. Keep calm and carry on to the nth degree.

He changes the subject. “Yeah, so, how about you, how are things across the pond?”

Rachel rolls her eyes in a way that reminds him of Danny. His stomach clenches, but he discreetly breathes through it.

“Surprisingly cheerful. I’ve never been smiled at so often on the streets, it’s unsettling, but understandable, of course.”

Steve chuckles to himself.

“Of course,” he answers, with a cheeky grin; he’ll never grow tired of Rachel’s dry sense of humour, much to Danny’s displeasure.

“So, Steve, the reason I’m calling earlier today,” Rachel continues, “I’ve procured a travel visa. I’ve pulled every string I could think of, to get on the first wave of transcontinental flights. I should be arriving in about 7 days, give or take, as I’m sure some delays are to be expected.”

Steve swallows thickly. “You’re coming here?”

Rachel shuffles in her seat. “Well yes, of course, my children are there. I haven’t seen them in almost three years.” She bristles, adjusting her watch. But then she continues in a softer tone. “And from what I’ve gathered from our conversations, you need the help, Commander… Steve. You’ve held the fort on your own long enough, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, but he’s saved from having to really think about it by the noise of the back-door opening.

“Hey, Rache, the kids are here, let me hurry them so you can tell them the big news,” he says, already standing and wiping his eyes out of the camera’s angle.

When he enters the kitchen, Nahele is holding something over Charlie’s head and Grace is giving him the stink eye. Charlie, on his part, is playing it cool, biding his time.

Both Nahele and Grace have been acting out since the last time Danny came home on a week-long leave (looking haunted by indescribable experiences). And Charlie has grown quiet and reserved, like he’s perpetually holding his breath. He’s also collecting odd objects under his bed, but Steve’s pretending not to notice, unprepared to tackle that conversation just yet. There’s a nagging voice that keeps saying “awesome parenting, Steve,” at the back of his head, but he’s also ignoring that.

He braces himself before scolding Nahele. It's never easy to discipline any of them.

“’Hele, cut it out, you didn’t like it when kids made fun of you back in Hawaii, Charlie doesn’t like it when you pick on him either.” Steve grabs Charlie’s pencil case and hands it over to its rightful owner.

Grace looks like she’s about to murder Nahele.

“What? I’m grounded now?” Nahele asks, despondent. And Steve feels the temptation to yell at him, to send him to his room, to shake him until Nahele understands all that Steve can't put into words. But he knows it won’t solve anything, that much he has learnt in the past years, from Danno, from that side of the family as well.

“We’ll talk about it later, when I’m not angry,” he says instead, as privately as he can with both Charlie and Grace expecting swift retribution on the side-lines.

“Now come on,” Steve says this louder, to all of them, “Rachel is on Skype, she’s got news. Good news.”

Grace and Charlie’s faces light up at the mention of their mother and they all but run into the living room. Nahele hangs back, pretending to be engrossed by a little bit of wallpaper that’s come loose near the fridge.

“Hey,” Steve says, way gentler than before. “I’m not that angry. And I still love you, no matter what, I’ll always love you.”

Nahele shrugs his shoulders, but he does look more relieved. Steve’s taking none of it at face value, though.

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but I need you to remember they’re having a hard time too.”

Nahele bites his lip and nods, fiddling with the straps of his backpack.

“Okay, go on, Rachel has good news for all, she’ll be pleased to see you.”

The kid goes, reluctantly, giving one last look back.

And now it’s Steve who hangs back. Barely two in the afternoon and exhausted already.

There’s a scratch on the back door and he inevitably pulls a face.

“Damn, you beg me, you cry for a dog,” he mumbles under his breath, opening the outer door to get Riley. “I get one, and what do you do...” he trails off.

Riley wags her tail happily at Steve, as she runs from the back-garden door to the kitchen steps, and squeezes past Steve’s leg into the house.

“I was going to surprise you, but I spilled your coffee on the way over and I—

“Danno,” Steve exhales, scared to believe what he’s seeing.

Danny stops fussing with his uniform, a brown stain running all over his left leg, and looks up.

He’s lost a lot of weight; judging by how narrow his shoulders look, how much his uniform sags around the hips. His hair is short now, short enough that it won’t slick back for a couple of months, and there’s dark circles under his eyes. But the smile? The smile is fundamentally Danny in all his beautiful happiness.

“Babe?” Danny says, “I don’t mean to rush you, but I was really hoping for a hug.”

Steve feels like he can breathe again after holding it all in for so long. His knees fail him for a fraction of a second and he collapses back into the steps, sitting down heavily, motioning for Danny to come closer.

“Yeah, yeah, come here,” he gushes, overcome with emotion, tears welling in his eyes and prickling as they fall over and roll down his cheeks.

Danny sets what’s left of the coffee on the porch—careful of the contraband—and sits next to Steve, cradling him on his arms, hugging him as hard as he can. Steve hugs him back, holding Danny like a lifeline, making sure he’s real.

They hold on to each other long enough that Riley comes back to inspect the suspicious smell on Danny’s thermos mug, though soon getting distracted by Steve’s conflicting emotions and soft sobs.

Riley whines at Steve, getting agitated, not knowing what’s wrong with her human.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, grabbing the puppy by her middle and bringing her close. “I’m okay, little girl, I’m okay, see?” He points to his face. “These are happy tears.”

Danny swallows around a lump in his throat and blinks a handful of tears away; happy tears as well.

Riley barks, once, sharp and definitive, rubbing her head on Steve’s shoulder and turning her deep honey eyes to him, asking for some assurance that everything is fine. Steve scratches her behind the ears. Danny follows Steve’s lead and gently pats her between the shoulders, making himself acquainted with Riley, wondering what else has happened in his absence.

As if on cue, Steve takes a big breath and says, “The kids are inside, they’re having a video chat with Rachel.”

“The kids are home?” Danny sits up, checking his watch, wanting to stand up and run inside, but uncertain if he should, not wanting to overwhelm the children in his rush.

On his part, Steve is well aware that the last time Danny came home, things were a lot different, the kids were bummed about his long deployment, holding on by settling into a resemblance of their old routines, yet still essentially the same happy children that once trampled down the stairs in a race to the sea, back in Hawaii, before the war broke out. But then, Danny had spent his last week-long leave haunting the house like a tired monosyllabic ghost and left a cold breeze on his wake once he deployed again. Steve had decided to pull them from school less than a month later, after Nahele hit a classmate and Grace was caught ditching school by her grandfather (of all people!). Seeing his children tightly wound into a ball of anger had made Danny’s absence too real, so, on top of the school change, measures had to be taken; Steve had never dreamt of being a stay at home dad, and yet, here he was.

“Yeah, it’s a long story, Danno,” Steve shrugs his shoulders, torn between explanations and not wanting to dump a ton of guilt on Danny’s shoulders. “I had to put them in an alternative school, they have shorter days and a handful of special extracurriculars, it keeps them more centred, calmer. It helps keep the peace at home, too.”

“Oh,” Danny says, his chest constricting at the sound of what’s left unsaid.

Steve is about to suggest they go inside and break the news to Rachel, remembering their conversation less than fifteen minutes ago, when Charlie comes through the kitchen, asking for Steve to come in. He stops dead on his track by the door and starts hyperventilating. There’s tears at the corner of his eyes and as Danny stands to go hug him, Charlie leaps to Danny’s arms and breaks into racking sobs.

Steve stands and hugs them, getting choked up all over again.

Over Charlie and Danny’s head he yells, “Grace, Nahele, come here, quick!”

For once, his older children come when asked without a hundred questions.

Grace’s face lights up with a thousand megawatt smile as she runs to her father, and Steve makes room for her to take his place in the group hug, walking up to Nahele who’s frowning next to the door.

“What’s up ‘Hele?”

Nahele shrugs one shoulder, his lower lip quivering.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here,” Steve pulls him into a hug, placing one hand on his neck and the other around his back, trying to convey with every fibre of his being how much he loves him. “It’s okay, baby, I know it’s hard.” Steve soothes, acutely aware of Nahele’s undercurrent of anger ever since Danny failed to appear that first month after the war had ended. Fear, turned into sadness, turned into anger, turned into a sobbing teen vibrating with unexpressed emotions of years of sudden changes and loss.

There’s a shuffling motion behind them and Steve sees from the corner of his eye as Grace, tears running freely down her dimpled cheeks, turns from her father and brother, and drapes herself over Nahele’s back, whispering words that only Nahele can hear. She’s quickly followed by Danny and Charlie, still on his arms, making a Nahele sandwich, who, for the first time in years cracks a genuine relaxed smile.

Riley barks, agitated again, at seeing all of her humans emoting hard on each other. Steve bends over and grabs her under his arm and lets her happily lick at whichever patch of skin she can reach.

His family is finally complete.


End file.
